I couldn't cry, not now, not when I have only thirty miles to go. Why didn't I stay home last time I saw him? Why didn't I offer to help him when he couldn't do the daily tasks as when he was young.
The rain stormed against the vehicle. I pulled over at the nearest gas stop to fill my tank. "I think I need a squeegee," I said to the attendant. He showed me two types to buy and I chose the longer one. I swiped the windshield as fast as the rain covered it up.
I then climbed back into my car to head toward the hosppital hoping I will see my father one last time.